


Toxic

by Jackdaw816



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canon Compliant, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds, Pre-Series 03: Children of Earth (Torchwood)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24967594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: It's getting late
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, John Hart/Ianto Jones
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Toxic

Bars were bars anywhere in the universe. John knew. He’d seen more than his share of them. He could be in Dubai, or his homeworld, or a space station at the edge of the universe, and all that would change was the language. For now, he was in Cardiff. Why humans would decide to build a city, a _capital_ city over a spatial-temporal rift, he would never understand.

Of course, it was his luck that his contact would _insist_ on meeting him here. He would have turned them down, but they’d offered him what he couldn’t refuse. Money. An exorbitant amount of money he’d go anywhere for, even his ex’s territory.

Not that he’d mind seeing Jack again, eternally gorgeous as the man was. Although, he had blown up his team a few scant months ago. Maybe it was best that he stayed under Torchwood’s radar and dealt with his business quietly.

John glanced toward the door. They’d said to meet in this bar at half past ten. It was almost eleven. They were late. He huffed. This was why he didn’t normally let strangers arrange the meetings. That and the home turf advantage. He’d been caught unaware a few times. He had the scars to remind himself to do better.

Ten more minutes, then he was out of there. John had taught himself to be patient, but that didn’t make the wait fun. He was in a back booth, perfectly positioned to see both exits and 90% of everything else. He stretched his legs out along the seat, back against the wall. He looked casual with an air of defiance. Exactly what he wanted.

He grabbed the bottle of vodka resting on the table and took a swig. He had to say, the drinks weren’t bad. Absolute shit compared to most alien booze, but for the century, it wasn’t horrible. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat. What to do for the next eight and a half minutes before he chatted up that blonde three tables down and let her take him home?

He reached inside his coat and pulled out a small bottle. His special formula, based on an old folktale that was supposedly based on an old Earth book. John didn’t care about the origin as long as it worked. He unscrewed the cap, wrinkled his nose at the smell, and got to work.

John noticed the man approaching, but didn’t care until he stopped at his table. He’d finished one hand and looked up, annoyed, before starting on the second. Of course. After all, it was Cardiff.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Ianto apologized stiffly, more a formality than any actual regret. John smirked and nodded toward the other side of the table.

“Just sit down, Eye Candy, before you attract any unwanted attention,” John said, keeping his tone much calmer than he felt. Why would Jack send his current fling to deal with his ex? Especially when said ex was John, and thereby irresistible? Maybe that was the reason. Ianto sat, keeping his hands protectively on the bag on his lap. 

“I couldn’t get away from Jack until now,” Ianto said, not meeting John’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow. Not here on Torchwood’s behalf then. This night might actually get interesting.

“So he doesn’t know you’re here?” John asked. Ianto nodded. “Sneaky, sneaky. Out to meet a man in a seedy bar, what will your mother say?” Or your boyfriend. John wasn’t sure who Jack would be madder at if he heard about this little rendezvous. Probably him. He really was too fond of Ianto for his own good.

“She’s dead,” Ianto said bluntly and John snapped back to reality. “And I could say the same to you. You accepted my offer.” Ianto’s eyes drifted downward and bugged out slightly in shock. “I’m sorry, are you… painting your nails?” 

“You had me waiting; what else was I supposed to do?” John complained halfheartedly, showing off his right hand, nails red and gleaming. The rich, dark color was only the second-best part of this polish, but with a bit of luck, he wouldn’t need the first. Ianto still looked like he was in a mild state of shock. John clicked his tongue.

“Is it because I’m a bloke or because it’s me?” John asked. Ianto just blinked at him.

“What?” Ianto stammered, and John rolled his eyes. He finished the last nail on his left hand and carefully sealed the bottle.

“Is it freaking you out because a man is wearing nail polish and that goes against your stupid century’s gender norms? Or is it freaking you out because of that and because it’s me?” John grinned and tucked the bottle back into his coat, careful to mind his nails.

“It’s not freaking me out,” Ianto said defensively. John just gave him a patronizing look. The kid looked like the epitome of a deer in the headlights. “I just don’t know why you’re doing it now.” 

“Like I said, you kept me waiting,” John said. “And I really hate being bored.” He let his gaze drift purposefully to the case in Ianto’s lap. “So show me what you’ve got.”

“I can’t take it out here,” Ianto said firmly, clutching the bag tighter. John glared at him, but he didn’t flinch. “It’s obviously not from around here, and we do have a cover to keep.”

“Fine, then,” John said, standing and grabbing the half-drunk bottle of vodka. “I won’t deal without confirmation, so let’s go somewhere more private.” John resisted the urge to snap his fingers at Ianto when he didn’t stand and join him. “You can pick the place, don’t worry. Just come on. Sooner we finish, sooner you can get back to your sad little domesticity with Torchwood’s golden boy.” Ianto snorted, and John grinned. 

“Fine. There’s a park a few minutes away.” Ianto rose to his feet. They hadn’t taken more than a step away from the table when their path was blocked by two men. 

“Where do you think you’re going, you faggots?” one of them spat, his face reminding John vaguely of a pug. Ianto stiffened beside him, hand inching toward the weapon he probably concealed in his suit jacket to use on John. John sighed. This fucking century.

“Somewhere where people don’t call us faggots.” John replied calmly. He’d shoot them, but he was fairly certain Ianto wouldn’t like that. “Now move aside,” he ordered with a broad sweep of a hand, tone authoritative with just a hint of a threat. 

“He is a poof; just look at his hands.” The other one jeered, an attractive blond if it wasn’t for the bigotry. “That shit’s for girls, mate.” John smiled coldly. Now they were just asking for a fight.

“I said move aside. I won’t ask again.” His voice was full of menace and warning. Ianto glanced at him, then nodded once.

“Or what?” Pug Face demanded. “You won’t hit me. You might chip a nail.” John smiled innocently, then struck him across the face so fast he never saw it coming. Three red lines were slashed along his cheek, blood or polish, John wasn’t quite sure.

“Don’t test me,” John snapped.

“You little fucking-” Pug Face started, raising a hand to hit back, but then started to scream. John watched, smirking as he collapsed to the ground, hands clawing at his face.

“What did you do?” Blond Bigot demanded, advancing on him as John weighed the vodka bottle in his hand. 

“Oh, he’ll live,” John mused. Then he took the bottle and smashed it over Blond Bigot’s head. He hit the ground with a solid thump and a gasp from the gawkers. “Maybe.” The bar burst into an uproar and John could spot the bartender going for a phone.

“Hart-” Ianto started to scold, but John shushed him.

“Later. Right now, run.” He grabbed Ianto’s hand and pulled him along, jumping over Pug Face’s writhing form and making a break for the door. The street was fairly quiet as they ran, the rhythm of shoes on pavement beating as loud as his heart.

“This way,” Ianto cut in, dragging John down a side alley. John went willingly; Ianto knew the city better than he did, after all. A few turns later and they burst out onto the sidewalk right across from the park he’d mentioned earlier. They skid to a halt, and John started to laugh. Ianto dropped John’s hand and crossed his arms.

“It’s not funny,” Ianto said although the corner of his mouth was twitching up. “You could have killed them.” John waved a hand dismissively and started to walk across to the park. Ianto jogged to catch up.

“They deserved it.” He shot a careful look at Ianto. “How do you put up with that? I would go insane if I had to deal with that every time I went out.”

“It’s not so bad.” Ianto justified. “It’s gotten a lot better recently. As long as you don’t advertise it, it’s usually fine.” They approached a bench a little way into the park, and Ianto sat down. John perched on the opposite armrest and put his feet on the seat.

“The fact that you had to justify that attack with ‘not so bad’ and ‘usually fine’ makes me wish I had killed them for you,” John said, crossing his arms. He’d seen a lot of bad stuff the few months he’d spent roaming the planet in this time. But he thought it was because of the company he’d been keeping. No such luck.

“You might have. What did you do to the one guy?” Ianto asked, nervously eyeing John’s hand. “He was screaming like he’d been burned.”

“Poisoned, actually,” John said, checking to make sure the polish was intact. “I use rattlesnake venom to get the rich red color.” Ianto looked at him with only a minor look of horror, John took that as a win. “A bonus weapon in when it’s still wet, it’s toxic.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from the man with paralyzing lipgloss.” Ianto murmured. John grinned.

“You can’t deny I have style.” Ianto just rolled his eyes. “Okay, fun over, time for business,” John said, eagerly eyeing the case. Ianto nodded. “Show me what you got.” Ianto undid the latch and pulled out a box about the size of a book. He keyed in a combination and opened the box. He pulled out a small pyramid, made of dull gray metal and topped with a translucent green gem.

“It’s a-”

“Illsarian memory box,” John breathed, cutting off Ianto’s explanation. Ianto frowned but nodded. 

“That’s what Jack said. He said he couldn’t activate it, so it’s just been in the Archives.” John reached for it, but Ianto pulled his hand away. “But he mentioned that Illsari is where you were from.”

“Fucking Boeshane Boy.” Ianto just coolly raised an eyebrow. “Yes, he’s right. It’s a colony founded on the second biggest moon of Kandor in the 46th century. Those boxes were created by our scientists in the 48th century. They’re telepathically connected to the family they were made for, and they carry so much information it would blow your little 21st-century mind.” John wasn’t sure why he was talking about Illsari. He didn’t even talk about his home with Jack, even back then. But Ianto didn’t seem judgemental, just genuinely curious.

“So can you tell whose family this one belongs to?” Ianto asked. John held out a hand, but Ianto still didn’t let it go. Worth a try. 

“Show me the bottom.” Ianto flipped it to show John the letters carved there. “Rotate it to the left, no, the other left.” Ianto complied and the letters faded into focus. “Hold it still; been a while since I’ve had to read this alphabet.” Even so, it still came back as if it had never left. And what he read almost knocked him off the bench.

“What does it say?” Ianto asked. John had to focus hard on keeping his face calm. That was the name he’d left behind years ago, and he could not let Ianto know that or he’d never let the box go.

“It belongs to the Kalquan family,” he said, lacing his fingers together so they didn’t twitch. “That’s a fairly common last name.” 

“I see,” Ianto said, then raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t want it?” 

“The Kalquans might pay a fortune for their treasured memories back; I want it,” John said, acting selfish and disinterested. It wasn’t hard; it was his natural state. But he wanted this so badly. “What are you asking for it, Eye Candy?” Ianto leaned forward and smirked.

“Go home and stay home.” John blinked.

“Excuse me?” Ianto didn’t flinch.

“If I give you this box, I want you to take it and leave this time. Don’t come back to Earth for at least a hundred years.” The ‘until I’m gone’ was unspoken, but they both heard it loud and clear.

“Why?” John asked, leaning forward, curious. “I never knew you cared about little ole me.”

“I don’t,” Ianto said firmly. “It’s for Jack. It’ll be a weight off of his mind if he doesn’t have to worry about you slaughtering your way across the globe.” John almost laughed. He’d killed two people in the past months, and they’d deserved it. He wasn’t John the Ripper, just a man with a unique sense of justice and an unhealthy number of weapons.

“You’d do anything for Jack,” John noted. “You’d kill for him, you’d die for him, although that’s rather redundant now. You’re out here in the middle of the night bargaining with a maniac so that he has just a little less worry.” Ianto stiffened but nodded resolutely.

“I can’t do a lot for him, not in the long run. But I do what I can.” Ianto held out the box. “So, do we have a deal?” John considered him carefully. Technically, this was at no real loss to him. If he remembered his history correctly, the century was going to go wild in just over a decade. No need to be around for that. And Jack was immortal. He could find him whenever. But Ianto Jones…

“Fine. On one condition,” John said, getting to his feet. Ianto stood as well. 

“And that is?” Ianto said in the tone of one who knows the other is in no position to be making demands but has decided to humor them anyway. John grinned.

“Kiss me.” John was delighted to see that the spark in Ianto’s eye was of curiosity, not revulsion.

“Why?” Ianto asked a few seconds later. 

“You’re banning me from the century, Eye Candy. If I never get to see you and your delectable suits again, I might as well get a kiss before I go.” Ianto rolled his eyes.

“One kiss, the box, and you leave?” Ianto asked, holding up the box. 

“Promise,” John said, crossing his fingers behind his back. Ianto sighed, then set the box on the bench. 

“Fine.” John grinned and stepped closer. He cupped Ianto’s face in a hand, the other arm snaking around his waist. He just held him for a second, swaying lightly to a beat neither of them could hear. Ianto rolled his eyes again. “Are you going to-” He was cut off by John’s kiss. 

It definitely wasn’t a peck. John kissed him hard and fully, knowing that there would only be one. Ianto made a noise that was almost certainly a moan, and John grinned into the kiss. Ianto would be thinking about this for days, and that was almost worth it just by itself. Almost.

“Okay, take your box and go,” Ianto said, looking flustered as they broke apart. John smiled and picked up the memory box. It hummed under his touch, and he almost dropped it. Shit.

“ _Welcome, Kalquan Lio,”_ a smooth, androgynous voice said, thankfully in Illsari. Ianto looked at it curiously. “ _What memory would you like to visit?”_

“None!” John snapped, in English, shit. 

“ _I’m sorry; that is not a compatible answer. Accessing random memory.”_ The voice continued. The gem at the top started to glow and projected a hologram just a few inches tall. There was a woman in furs with neatly braided hair, smiling at another woman holding a child of around five. Ianto was looking at it with wonder; John was desperately trying to remember where the off switch was.

“ _The day of the annual Sanwyrn races, we almost never left home.”_ The voice had changed from artificial androgyny to that of a woman. John stiffened. Fuck, fuck, not now, goddesses, not in front of Ianto. “ _Little Lio was still recovering from his fall into the ocean a few weeks prior and was nervous about leaving the safety of the ship.”_

“Is that-” Ianto started to ask.

“Shut up!” John snapped as the voice changed again to another woman, her voice deep and wise.

“ _Ama finally coaxed him off the ship by promising she’d make his favorite dinner when we got home.”_ John bit at his lip. It had been so long since he’d heard her voice. Not since he’d left home for the Agency. “ _That may have been a mistake, as he spent the next three days begging for his own Sanwyrn.”_

The image changed, to a boy of around sixteen riding what looked like a horse with scales instead of fur and twisted antlers like a deer. The voice changed again too, one last time.

“ _I finally convinced Ama and Satya to let me compete in the races.”_ John choked back a noise at the sound of his own voice, recorded three thousand years in the future, and over twenty-five in the past. _“I’ve been riding Nerea for three years now, and my instructor says I’m a natural. Not to mention my stature gives me an advantage. I’m going to win it for them. They’ll see.”_

The hologram faded away, and the memory box went dark. John was shaking, but he didn’t realize it until Ianto laid a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s yours?” Ianto asked. He couldn’t have understood the language, but he didn’t need to. John felt so raw and exposed, like an open book. He _hated_ it, and for a moment, he had the urge to smash the box on the pavement. Instead, he nodded and tucked it away inside his coat.

“Thank you.” John leaned in and kissed Ianto on the cheek. “I’ll hold to my end of the bargain.” He flipped open his bracer, putting in the coordinates long unused, but never forgotten. “Are you going to tell him?”

“About what?” Ianto asked.

“Any of this, all of this,” John said casually, slightly dreading the answer. Ianto smiled.

“I’ll take a leaf out of your book.”

“Lie, deflect, and lie some more?” John asked. Ianto laughed, the first laugh he’d heard from Ianto. It was beautiful.

“Not exactly, but I’ll take it.” John pressed the final button.

“Live long and prosper, Ianto Jones,” John said, voice tinged with a sadness he didn’t realize he felt. He faded into the Rift with Ianto’s laughter ringing in his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> The nail polish is from Holes by Louis Sachar, if you haven't read that, go read it, it's one of the best books ever. 
> 
> Thanks to [Nik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds) for betaing and also putting up with me when I forgo sleep to write 3k words of a rarepair.


End file.
